


god-intoxicated

by chrysostomos (nantes)



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe – Fusion, Alternate Universe – Gods and Goddesses, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Rescue Missions, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26113045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nantes/pseuds/chrysostomos
Summary: Of all the things Diego expected to get dragged into this month, meeting a mythological witch, finding out Five is married,andrescuing him from his unwanted sun god husband were not on the list.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Apollo (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Number Five | The Boy/Diego Hargreeves
Comments: 17
Kudos: 120





	god-intoxicated

**Author's Note:**

> don’t ask how this fic happened, i personally blame christine, but please _do_ accept that it is in retaliation to the hate/war crime that is david castañeda being told to remove his nipple ring for his role as diego so i have given diego motherfucking hargreeves a bronze spear.
> 
> title’s from ovid.

> “ _The spearhead sliced right through to the flesh / And when Diomedes pulled it out / Ares yelled, so loud you would have thought / Ten thousand warriors had shouted at once / And the sound reverberated in the guts of Greeks and Trojans / As if Diomedes had struck not a god in armour / But a bronze gong nine miles high._ ”
> 
> **THE ILIAD, BOOK V, HOMER**
> 
>   
> 
> 
> “ _Apollo’s name is cognate with the Greek verb_ apollesthai _, ‘to destroy utterly, kill, slay, demolish, lay waste’._ ”
> 
> **CASSANDRA FLOAT CAN, CARSON**

Five appears in the room, surrounded by the scent of ripe fruit. Diego’s unsure of how he knows it’s that, exactly, but he does. Ripe fruit just about to turn rotten, too sweet almost – he hates that he knows where the smell comes from; “He came by the academy?”

Folding his arms across his chest, defensive already against the possibility of Diego’s unvoiced judgement, Five answers, “Yes. So, I was thinking I could stay here tonight. In case he-”

“Comes back. Sure, bud,” is the return.

Diego hipchecks Five towards the bed as Five grumbles, “Don’t ‘bud’ me,” but he’s already tugging off his button up. Taking the opportunity as skin is revealed, Diego presses his laugh into Five’s shoulder. “I mean it, _pal_ , don’t call me ‘bud’ while you’re manhandling me.”

A laugh leaves Diego’s mouth, sharp and easy, as he puts space between him and Five, letting Five dramatically throw himself onto the bed.

He follows a moment later when Five glares, waiting. He slots himself into the palm of Diego’s side as he sighs. “Thanks.”

Five shifts again and Diego wraps his arm around his waist. Underneath it he feels Five relax, skin on skin warm next to him. The ‘anytime’ is clear.

Quiet moments pass between them until Diego asks, carefully, “Who is he?” Burying his face into Diego’s chest, Five groans. “C’mon, at least give me some sorta reference to work with here. Who is this guy?” Five lifts his head, enough to rest his chin more comfortably, but his eyes avoid looking at Diego. Diego attempts, “We’ve all got that one ex,” but Five cuts him off.

“Technically, he’s not my ex.”

Without permission, Diego’s body goes rigid. _Wait_. Five lifts himself completely away, pushing himself onto his knees. The mattress spring creaks, displacement pushing it into the lower half of Diego’s back. Five reaches out, covering Diego’s hand with his own; Diego makes sure not to pull it back. But he’s not, fuck, he’s not into being the other guy. Even if Five has made it pretty clear he doesn’t want . . . whoever the blonde that keeps turning up is.

“It’s not like that,” Five says. It’s quick, off kilter for Five to sound as he does. Diego allows him to intertwine their fingers. “I know.” He stops, letting the sentence die. Diego squeezes their hands together, urging him on gently. He’s never seen Five at a loss for what to say.

“Go on.”

“Please don’t think you’re anything less than.” Again, Five stops speaking. They’ve never put a title on what they are, no label or honorific, but it’s something. Even if unnamed. “I want you.” His knee slips along the sheets and once again, Diego makes space for him. Five climbs onto his lap. “I mean it,” he insists, leaning over Diego’s frame. His hair flops to the side of his face and Diego can’t resist reaching up and pushing it back. If his fingers linger a moment longer, neither one comments. “But getting out of what I have- it’s difficult.”

Diego smiles. “Try me.”

“He’s my husband. And. Fuck, you’re not gonna believe me.”

Once more, Diego answers, “ _Try me._ ”

Five sits back, weight properly pushing into Diego’s lap. Diego moves his hand to Five’s thigh, not petting but something close. Something he hopes is soothing, relaxing enough for Five to open up. Five stays quiet, clearly processing, so Diego says, “With our family is anything really going to shock me? You could tell me that guy is young Dad and I’d accept it.”

A grimace wrinkles Five’s nose. “Disgusting, don’t even joke.” Diego laughs which draws a smile across Five’s mouth. “It’s nothing that bad. Just. He’s a god.” Diego feels his brows raise in surprise. “A sun god, to be exact.”

“Alright.”

“You remember those Greek myths Dad used to make us read?” Diego nods. “They’re real, mostly. And somewhere along my travels, I met Apollo. Don’t ask, it’s a long story but the outcome is as I’ve said – I married him and now he’s here.”

“I’m guessing ‘no’ doesn’t work so well with a god,” Diego says.

Five shakes his head, “Not really. You read the myths.” Actually, Diego didn’t really. They weren’t his favourite, so sue him. “I’m working on it,” he says, “but right now he’s, just, gonna be hanging around.”

Diego says, “And you’re gonna hide in mine. Glad I can be of assistance, bud.” He’s laughing, but Five still digs at his chest with an open palm. “ _What?_ ”

“I told you not to call me ‘bud’.”

Taking Five’s hand to stop him thumping his chest again, Diego pulls him in. Their intertwined hands twist Diego’s wrist the wrong way but it’s worth it. “Pal, buddy, chum, _bro_ ,” he smirks, nose to Five’s nose, “any of those work for you instead?” Five shakes his head and that strand of hair comes loose once more. “Alright, I’ll stop.”

“Good.”

Five moves to close the distance. And with a flash of golden light, he’s gone. Diego sits upright. “Five?” No, this- that was wrong. Five’s light is blue, it’s blue and that was gold. This is wrong.

From the ceiling flutters a note, handwritten in indigo ink.  
  


> Keep your hands off my husband.
> 
> _A._

Shit.

+

The room around Five is all white and gold. Ornate in the tacky rococo way he has come to associate with his husband. The bed he is kneeling on is softer than Diego’s mattress in the boiler room. Only the best for a god.

“I did wonder,” comes a smooth voice from the door. Five closes his eyes briefly, steeling himself to turn around and face _his husband_. When he looks, he finds Apollo leaning in on the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. “Why did that man keep putting himself between you and I the way he did. Shouldering his way in. I had thought it was simply older brother alpha behaviour but, oh, how wrong I was.”

Five frowns. Without Diego between his thighs there’s no point in kneeling on the bed.

He teleports through to the hallway, looking for an exit. Apollo follows him, tracking him to the stairs. “There’s no point, you can’t leave.”

“Trapping me here doesn’t change anything.”

He turns to face Apollo. He would love to punch the victorious smirk from Apollo’s face but considering the circumstances, it won’t help. So Five refrains. “You’re right, it doesn’t,” Apollo says. “For, as it stands, you, my love, willingly said ‘yes’.”

“Is it willing if my other option is death or being turned into an animal? Or plant, I suppose. That’s how Daphne-”

Apollo closes the three steps between them in an instant. He’s barely taller than Five typically but right now, with the menacing span of his shoulders framing his neck, Five feels pinned by the figure before him. And teleporting away won’t get him too far.

“Don’t try to spin this,” Apollo snaps, the cut of his consonants knife-sharp. “I can time jump too, Hargreeves. We were both there, you were never in any danger if you had declined. The myths aren’t all truth, you know this better than most. Your ‘yes’ was real.”

He pulls back. Five is still trapped.

“You loved me.”

+

The tower of books tumbles to the floor as Diego groans, throwing his arms out to make room to rest his head on the desk. All these Greek myth tomes in the library and not one of them has any answers he’s looking for; over one hundred and twenty myths about Apollo and there’s barely any information about _where he has taken Five._

“Fuck,” he grumbles into the wood.

Footsteps approach. There’s a knife strapped to Diego’s chest, depending on the sibling in front of him he won’t hesitate to use it.

It’s Klaus.

The knife stays next to his heart for now.

“Not the Hargreeves I was expecting in here, but hello, Diego,” he says, too sunny and cheerful for Diego’s current mood. Diego puts his head back down. With a tilted head Klaus reads, “The Complete Greek Myths. Any particular reason for the sudden interest in Hellenic lore?”

“Trying to work out where Apollo lives.” Diego holds his breath to wait for the answer. He still has the knife.

“Crossword clue?”

Lifting his head, Diego curls his lip. “Let’s say that’s it, you got an answer?”

Klaus slides onto the couch next to him, knee bumping Diego’s thigh. “Unfortunately, no. Apollo seems to be one of the more nomadic Olympians.” He helps himself to a burgundy leather bound book next to Diego’s foot, placing it on the desk and opening it at the appendix. “Any letters filled in already?” Diego eyes him. Klaus plainly ignores it. “I suppose ‘Delphi’ might work,” he draws his finger down the listed words, “but I don’t think he ever resided there. Just spoke through drugged teenage girls at the temple.”

Diego watches him carefully open a page, cracking the spine first to rest it flat on the desk. “Luther’s looking for Five, by the way, have you seen him?”

Of all of his siblings, Klaus is probably the best one to inform of Five’s current predicament; the Hargreeves least reactive to and shocked by weird situations.

He gestures at the mess of books.

Klaus inhales, then, “Ah. The blonde – I should have clocked something was going on there, but, you know, attractive blondes who look like a missing Hemsworth, I was a bit distracted. I saw him from the back the first time he approached Five and I was shocked he said ‘no’, you could bounce change off that thing . . . not that you’re not appealing, in your own . . . world weary antihero way.” He trails off. “So, what are we talking? Kidnapped? Is Five now a new subspecies of _amaryllis_ -” Diego raises a brow. “What? I read occasionally.”

“Whatever.”

“Have you told the others?” Klaus asks. A shake of Diego’s head is followed by, “Are you going to?”

Diego answers, “What do you think?” Klaus bobs his head on his shoulders, somewhere between a nod and shaking his head. “Not everyone else in this family would take ‘Five is married to and has been kidnapped by a Grecian god’ as well as you have.”

“ _Married?_ ” Klaus clucks, “You never mentioned anything about marriage. Although, when you think about it, Five _is_ Apollo’s type. For guys at least, he likes his women a little more . . . auburn.”

Confused, Diego frowns.

Klaus sighs. “Did you really read any of this or just attempt to use it instead of Google?” Diego doesn’t respond. “Fine, you’ve twisted my arm. I’ll help.” There’s really no point in Diego arguing with him, so he doesn’t.

+

“Have you ever tried to kill a god?”

Eight hours later and Diego hasn’t managed to shake Klaus. Which is Klaus’ choice, not Diego’s, so if he’s here he’s going to have to deal with Diego’s schedule. He pauses his current reps on the punching bag and turns to his brother. “No,” he states, plain and simple.

Klaus makes a disapproving noise. He’s already looking at the books again, the twelve he managed to jam into his pockets when they left the library – before Luther could find them – but Diego’s knows he’s got another comment so he remains unmoving. “We weren’t exactly penpals while I was in rehab, you might have gotten up to some stuff I don’t know about.”

“Not killing God stuff, no.”

“Yeah, not killing _God_ stuff, that’s not what I’m asking. Have you ever tried to kill _a god_ , not the Christian Hebrew Islamic God, there’s a difference.”

“Answer’s still ‘no’, Klaus.” The bag chain clanks as he restarts his workout.

+

Diego jolts awake at Klaus’ ‘hey!’. Klaus blinks, then asks, “Were you sleeping?” Diego makes a non-committal noise in response. “Oh. Well, you can do that. But.”

He stops.

Diego sits up fully, motioning for Klaus to keep going.

“I think I’ve found something.”

“You know where Apollo has taken Five?”

Klaus laughs but Diego chooses to ignore it. “No, that seems to be lost to time. And maybe modern geography cos, if you think about it, are any of the city states Greece used to be made up of still abiding by the same statelines?”

“ _Klaus._ ”

“Sorry, fine, sorry,” he fumbles, flipping through pages before turning the book to Diego. “There’s only one weapon, that I can find anyway, that could kill a god-”

Diego cuts him off. “Why am I killing him?”

Klaus sighs. “We went over this earlier.” They did not, Diego would remember if murder had been added to the plan at any stage, although- “Remember when I asked if you’d killed a god? Did you think that was just polite conversation? As interesting as your answer was not, it was for reference.” Diego frowns, confused. “Do you really think a god with the power of the sun at his fingertips is going to let you take back his husband because you turned up at the door and asked nicely? Read any of these myths and they’ll tell you the same thing – you want something from a god, you have to fight for it.”

Diego hears the pop of his mouth as it falls open. Shit. Even with Diego’s skills and Klaus’ . . . _assistance_ this isn’t going to end well. “How many mortals won?”

“Just the one. And it wasn’t a great victorious win since the god he speared fled the fight which, honestly, I think is the best outcome we can ask for with this,” Klaus says. He points at the book again, “And that’s what we’re gonna get.”

“A god running a-”

“No, keep up, the spear.” He jabs at the stanza in the middle of the page. Diego doesn’t bother reading it, Klaus clearly has. “Just gotta find it.”

Diego scoffs. Excellent. “Got any leads on that?”

“I do, actually,” Klaus answers. “But you’re not going to like it.”

+

Despite his best efforts to limit his smoking, knowing there’s going to be no way to get cigarettes while . . . wherever the fuck Apollo has brought him, Five is down to his last three cigarettes. He rattles them in the packet as he considers taking another one but pockets them before he gets too far with that thought.

By his best calculations, he’s been here three days; at least, three days of however time works here. It could be three weeks back home, or months, or years.

He hasn’t aged but that may also be down to his _husband_.

Oh, fuck it. He’s having another cigarette.

The view in front of him could be anywhere – southern Italy, Andorra, somewhere between Monaco and Nice, Greece itself. But knowing the Olympians it’s somewhere hidden from mortal eyes, almost real but not quite. It’s beautiful all the same, Five will give it that.

Having spent forty five years alone on post-apocalyptic Earth he knows a thing or two about making the best of a terrible situation.

The click of the latch on the door alerts him to Apollo’s approach. Turning, Five sees him shouldering his way through the doorway with a tray. Coffee. Apollo always knew how to make a pot of coffee to Five’s liking.

“Peace offering?” he asks before exhaling.

Apollo places it down on the glass tabletop and motions if he should pour. Five nods. “Think of it more as a random act of kindness from one husband to another.”

Five pushes smoke out of his nose around a scoff. “I think you’ll find holding said husband captive nullifies any sort of ‘kindness’ you may be trying to express.”

With the cup poured, Five helps himself. Apollo adds sugar, then far too much milk. “You’ve at least stopped trying to escape,” he says.

“Somewhat difficult when every door in the house that could potentially lead to the outside seems locked to me and any attempt to teleport myself into the garden sends me straight back to my room. This,” he gestures around the balcony space. The grimace on Apollo face when a lump of ash falls from his cigarette to the tray makes him smile, “is the closest to the outside I can get. And I haven’t tried it yet but I’m pretty certain when I do climb down something in the garden is going to prevent me from getting too far.”

He takes a mouthful of his coffee. It’s as good as he remembers Apollo’s coffee always was.

Over the rim of his cup Apollo eyes him. “It’s otherwise skeleton soldiers or bronze cyclopes. Hera suggested one, Poseidon suggested the other and I can’t remember whose décor choice I went with.”

Another mouthful for Five, then, “Perhaps both.”

“Perhaps.”

+

“I have an idea. Sort of.”

Diego doesn’t have anything. “Go on.”

“I’m not sure you’re gonna like it.”

+

Diego leans against the sink. “Have you slept at all?” he asks.

Klaus continues fiddling with the taps. Steam is already fogging up the mirrored doors of the cabinet opposite Diego. Over the rush of the water, he finally answers, “NASA says all I need is 15 minutes, I’m good.”

“That’s as a nap during one-” Diego sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. It’s not worth it. “Forget it. Run me through this again; you know this wizard?”

“Witch.” Klaus dunks his hand under the water briefly, testing the temperature. “That’ll do. She’s a witch, and maybe a half-god. She’s definitely not dead.”

“You’re sure of that?”

Klaus’ laugh echoes off the tiles. Why are they doing this in Dad’s bathroom, of all places? “Dude, I was at the height of a four day PCP bender when I met her, and we all know I can’t commune for shit with the dead when I’m even a hint not sober.” He smiles and points towards the bath. Diego moves to untie his shoes. “No, get in. As you are. She’s not gonna have spare shoes for you.”

But she’ll have the spear. The spear from _the Iliad_ that pierced the side of the god of war. Because Klaus saw it when he met her while high on PCP. Sure. Nothing is going to go wrong here. All Diego’s got to do is get in the bathtub in Dad’s bathroom, fully dressed and-

“How long can you hold your breath for?” Klaus asks. He squawks at Diego’s retaliation splash. “Alright, got it. Don’t joke about your disconnected weird powers. Go under.”

He grabs Klaus’ arm. “You’re coming too, right?”

“Sure. Once you’re gone, I’ll follow.”

Yeah, there’s definitely nothing that can go wrong here.

+

Apollo looks as though Five slapped him. Good. Fucking _good_. It’s been, Christ, Five has no idea but he’s been bristling for an argument for days. And he’s not going to let this one pass him by, even if Apollo’s hurt, shocked face tugs irritatingly at his heartstrings.

“You said so yourself – you were drawn to me because I reminded you of her. Because _that’s_ your type. Trapped folk with no other option, tragic and alone, so you can swoop in like the hero with your massive heart and all the love within it to save them. So they’ll love you like a god deserves.”

Apollo swallows thickly.

Five watches how it moves his jaw.

He doesn’t say anything, so Five continues, “A perhaps I did love you. At first. But I know you now, I know the truest you there is and you- you couldn’t stand that I had freewill again. Other options. So you removed them.” He’s shaking, anger running through him, lighting him up. He clenches his hands into fists. “Because any time anyone has had a choice to be with you, they’ve chosen a different option; Castalia turned herself into a spring, Coronis fucked a mortal while pregnant with your son, Daphne begged Gaia to escape you-“

“Enough.”

Five freezes.

But he still has more to say. “And then you met me. The last human alive after the apocalypse; the last creature left on Earth to worship you.”

Apollo disappears. With him gone, the hallway goes dark. Five release his hands from their fists but his fingers continue to shake. He’s fine. He’s _fine_ , he’s fine, he’s fine. He spent forty five years alone with the upper half of a mannequin for company. He can handle his dickhead husband disappearing for a while.

+

The water temperature around Diego changes, hits like a punch to the gut with how cold it is. He opens his eyes to find the bathroom gone, replaced with a wide-open sea with the surface not far above. He breaks the waterline with a gasp; a terrible idea as water floods his mouth, salty and gross, and any attempts to splutter it out have more flooding in.

The pull of Klaus drags him back under, Diego pushing against the tide to break the surface once more. In thanks, Klaus spits water into the side of Diego’s face. “You’re welcome,” Diego sighs, earning him a grin from Klaus back.

“That way,” Klaus directs, jerking his head somewhere behind Diego.

“There’s nothing there,” Diego insists.

“Sure there is, c’mon.”

Diego follows him which is easier said than done with Klaus’ flailing doggy paddle in front of him. The shoreline appears all at once, Diego’s knees suddenly making contact with sand out of nowhere. He isn’t given a moment to consider the fact _an island appeared out of thin air_ as Klaus squawks, leaping backwards into Diego. With a shove, Diego states, “It’s just seaweed, calm down.”

Klaus glares.

Before he can answer they are joined by a third person; Diego hates how his mouth falls open like a bemused carp but she is _beautiful._ Red hair, dark eyes, and the lightest trails of freckles across her nose. Klaus beams at the sight of her but her eyes meet Diego’s and she doesn’t let go. In Diego’s periphery he catches Klaus moving to speak to her, but:

“Klaus, hush,” she orders, lifting her hand. Klaus makes no noise. Diego finally looks away from her to watch his brother struggle to say anything at all. A laugh bubbles out of his mouth but when he turns back to the woman, to thank her for finally shutting Klaus up, she isn’t smiling. “You have thirty seconds before I turn you both into pigs.”

“I’m Diego,” he pushes out. “Klaus’ brother. He told me he knew you.” She doesn’t respond and Diego considers how best to avoid becoming a pig, even if it wastes a few valuable seconds. “We’re here, well, _I’m_ here to collect something from you, something Klaus thinks you might have.”

“Ten.”

Higher with stress, Diego says, “Apollo took someone, someone important to me. And Klaus thinks you’re the only person who could help me get him back.”

Her shoulders drop. “Follow me.”

Diego double steps to catch up with her. Over her shoulder to him she says, “I’m Circe.”

“He mentioned that.”

Klaus stomps along behind them.

+

“Do you want him to have his voice back?” she asks. Each lantern they approach lights up as she passes. The frown on Klaus’ face looks too endearing in the light for Diego respond with any other than a shake of his head.

“Nah, he’s good for now.”

+

Diego shouldn’t laugh, it truly did look like it hurt a lot, but the clang of Klaus’ teeth off the golden apple rings out and he can’t help it. Circe takes it back from Klaus and places it on its plinth again, “You did that last time.”

Childishly, Klaus sticks his tongue out in retaliation.

With a short cough, Diego changes the subject. Gesturing at the items mounted around the room, he asks, “The gods just, they gave you all these?”

Circe cracks a smile. Diego notes how it doesn’t reach her eyes. “The gods don’t _give_ me anything. Everything you see in here was placed here in fear.” She meets his eyes. “Of hurting them, destroying the world. That sort of thing.”

“Including you?”

“Especially me,” she answers. “You haven’t read my story?” Diego shrugs. Seriously, the Hellenic stories weren’t his favourite but now – with Circe in front of him, the pattern of her freckled shoulders visibly captured in this light – he may give _the Odyssey_ a try once he’s home again. “I turned one woman into a monster and burned a city to the ground and, poof, here I am. Probably for the best you haven’t read them- although, I did get a rewrite in the 1500s. I don’t advise reading that one though.”

Interested, Diego leans into her space, “Why not?”

Her laugh is sharp but warm. “I spend a lot of time crying on a rock by the sea over-” She pauses, turning to watch Klaus touching a helmet; “Don’t.”

Klaus turns back to them, wide eyed. He draws a loop through the air near Diego, then flaps his arm to emphasise his silent point.

“It’ll be useless – Apollo controls light and that’s the helmet of darkness.”

Klaus kicks the plinth it stands upon.

+

A week has passed since Five saw another person, even if that person was his shithead of a husband. Perhaps it has been two. It’s difficult to tell time without the sun travelling through the sky but Five has dealt with worse. Even the lights in the house no longer work without Apollo around, the fucking _Lord of Light_. And his lighter ran out not long after he smoked his last cigarette, somehow stretching the pack out despite his circumstances.

Teleporting supplies light for a brief second but he’s tired, worn thin from-

No.

He’s fine. He keeps telling himself this. It’s just the dark, he is in the dark by himself, this is nothing he can’t handle. He has figured out where most things are in the house by now but navigating without light and without his ability is mentally draining.

He doesn’t even have Delores for company this time.

Fuck. This is worse than before. The last time he was alone the thoughts of being home again were just that, thoughts. Now Five has been home, he has walked familiar streets, existed in the space he should have always existed within, seen his family and- Diego. Fucking _Diego_ , the last person he saw before he was transported here.

Rolling onto his side on the bed, Five shuts his eyes. A pointless endeavour in his current state but at least he can control the dark like this. He shuts his eyes and does his best not to think of his circumstances. Or how much he misses Diego.

+

The last time that smell crossed Diego’s path it was Five. _Five._ It can’t be, Five isn’t here. Yet Diego follows the smell, sweet and heavy, through the air. It leads him to a room filled with golden light with a statue of a young woman in the centre of a fountain.

Apples bob in the water. All around him the smell fills the air. Diego remembers it on Five’s hair.

Stepping into the room – Five isn’t here, Diego’s pretty certain of that, but there’s no harm in checking – he gets a better look at the statue’s face. He recognises Circe’s nose in the middle.

“She’s my daughter,” her voice says behind him. Guiltily, Diego steps back, feeling like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. Circe corrects herself, carefully, sounding out the words, “Or, she was my daughter. Now she’s. Dead.”

Quickly, abruptly, Diego says, “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Circe shakes her head. In an instant she’s next to Diego. “It’s alright,” she says, “it’s good someone else is meeting her.”

In a burst of tenderness, Diego almost reaches to comfort Circe but he catches his hand before it moves. Instead, he asks, “When did she die?” The statue looks almost new, but so does everything else on the island, so it’s difficult to tell.

Circe leans towards her daughter’s face and brushes dust from her cheek. “Give or take about three thousand years.”

Diego has no response. Five spent forty five years alone and every reference of it hits Diego in the gut, making him want to wrap Five up in his bed and never let him be alone again. But three thousand years? She’s been alone for _three thousand years_ , excluding a couple of days with PCP addled Klaus? He can’t help it, the question comes to mind and Diego has to ask it; “Was she your only kid?”

She doesn’t look at him as she shakes her head. “I had three boys. Older than her.” 

“Are they dead too?” It’s out of his mouth before he can stop it. His cheeks pink up with embarrassment at his own stupidity.

Gently, Circe shakes her head. “Perhaps, but possibly not. They were all like me. And they got off the island – I lost track of their lives long ago. She was the only one who stayed with me.” Diego tracks the movement of her jaw, how the slip of her cheekbone moves as she says, “And the only mortal of them all. Unusual, considering her parentage.”

As soon as he says it, he knows it’s the wrong thing to say. “And you’ve been alone since.”

Her poise changes, back straightening, shoulders dropping as she changes the angle of her head upon her neck. Circe’s entire being becomes cold. Statuesque despite the few inches Diego has on her. He’s seen Five move himself the same way, the bodily reaction almost protective when someone . . . _pities_ him. Shit. Diego didn’t mean to insult her.

“It’s getting late,” she states, “and the tides are more treacherous in the dark. Sleep here tonight and in the morning, you and Klaus will take the spear. I will show you the way you need to go.”

Diego only nods, positive that anything he says will just offend Circe more. At least she hasn’t teleported out of the room as Five sometimes does. He nods and Circe nods back. Then leaves him alone.

+

Dawn stains the sky pink as they wait on the shore. A boat sits in the water moored to a rock, Klaus and the spear already aboard as Diego struggles to find the right words to say to thank Circe for her help. Circe gave Klaus his voice back somewhere between last night and now but, thankfully, Klaus is staying quiet for now.

“You’ll know the strait when you come to it, the water will hum with god-like magic,” she says.

Diego doesn’t want to leave her behind.

Taking her hand in his, he asks, “Is there no way you can come with us?” Circe turns her hand and he traces the lines of her hand with his thumb, not letting go yet. “There’s room on the boat.”

“My part in your story is ended, Diego Hargreeves.” His grip tightens. As her fingers draw along his knuckles, she says, “Go reclaim what Apollo took from you.”

+

Klaus moves his knee, sending the spear bumping into Diego’s leg. Or perhaps it was the water. The spear chimes off the bone all the same. “She was a lot nicer to me the last time I visited.”

“Maybe you should have visited her since.”

+

Five opens his eyes only to immediately shut them once more against the blinding light now filling the room. He should be pleased but it hurts.

“She helped them,” Apollo spits, somewhere to Five’s left. Five doesn’t bother looking towards him. “She gave your fucking brothers the spear.”

It’s plural, _brothers_ , but Five knows, no matter who else he has brought, it’s Diego.

+

With the spear planted in the ground, Diego takes a moment to assess what lies ahead of them. The cliff before them is steep; Klaus will complain the whole way up. So, Diego offers, “You can stay here and guard the boat.”

He scoffs. “And miss you kicking god ass? I don’t think so.”

Diego smiles, replying, “Alright, but I don’t wanna hear any complaints on the way up.” He points, poking Klaus in the chest, “You chose to come, remember?”

Klaus swats him. 

A few metres up, Klaus opens his mouth but a glare from Diego shuts him back up. With a sigh, Diego keeps climbing. Such a pity Circe had to give him back his voice. A spear _and_ Klaus’ voice returned and Diego still left her- no. She said it herself, her part in his story was over; Diego can only reclaim one god-imprisoned person in this narrative and Five is it. 

When he looks back at Klaus Diego finds him observing him. “What?” he asks, briskly. He doesn’t pause to wait for Klaus’ answer – the spear is an awkward object to carry up a mountainside and Five’s already been here for, fuck, Diego hasn’t been counting the days but it’s long enough.

“Heroics suit you,” Klaus says, eventually.

The spear slips in Diego’s palm. Bronze doesn’t have the easiest grip to it. Diego rights it but now it pulls at his arm. “Always has,” he returns.

Klaus laughs. It feels wrong within their conversation but Diego’s sweating, hanging off the side of the mountain with a spear in his right hand so he lets it slide. “True, but this is different.” A huff and Klaus asks, “Are we nearly there?”

Diego looks up. His tee is sticking to his back with his sweat, his hairline slick with it. They have to be. But- “No.”

A whine leaves Klaus’ mouth. “When they add this tale to the classics, they better mention how I came up here with you. I don’t have the knees for this.”

The dry rock does little for the warmth of Diego’s brow when he leans upon it. He exhales slowly. They had this conversation, as brief as it was, at the bottom. Before he can tell Klaus to shut up, Klaus quips, “I know, you said no complaining. But I have delicate hands, like a pianist or flautist, they’re not meant to be subjected to this sort of abuse.”

“If you let go I’m sure the fall will bring you back to the beach.”

Klaus’ toe barely makes contact with Diego’s thigh. 

“Don’t fucking kick me,” he warns, swatting at his brother with his free hand. Not the smartest idea, considering the spear in his hand and the sizeable drop should he or the spear fall, but somehow Diego and the spear survive this. His fingers get nowhere near Klaus but still, there’s triumph in the moment.

At the top, a forest flickers in and out of existence. “What the fuck?” Diego says, prodding at where a tree _should be_ with the spear tip. It disappears completely.

Klaus waves his arm through three more. “This is shockingly easier than I was expecting.” Diego just looks at him. “What? Oh sorry, is the unreal forest not to your liking? Would you like a better quest to reclaim your beloved?”

Diego walks ahead.

“Do you think these count as holograms?” Klaus asks. “Since he’s god of light and all that. Or do you think he’s got another word for it? Illusionary trees.” His chatter continues, trees flickering in and out of view as they walk through them. Inane chatter, but comforting all the same. Even as Diego walks towards potential death, probably severe bodily harm, it’s good to know Klaus will always be Klaus.

As with the island before, the manor appears as if out of thin air. Diego stops, tilting his head to look up at the full height of it. An elbow to the side from Klaus jerks him back to the situation at hand; “Think anyone’s home?” Klaus chimes.

“Only one way to find out.” Diego steps forward but has to halt before a second step as the ground beneath their feet begins to shake.

An arrow flies towards them. Diego drops the spear to catch it in the air, barely centimetres from his face. He shoves Klaus out of the way, Klaus falling back with an inelegant wail. With a flick of his wrist, the arrow flies back to its previous owner and clatters off bone. Shit. Skeletons, no flesh to pierce. Grabbing the spear, Diego springs forward.

“Go for the heads,” Klaus yells. “It worked for Cadmus.”

Decapitation? Alright, Diego can work with that. He quickly counts twelve closing in. He can handle twelve.

+

A clatter peals out like a bell behind him where the base of the spear has collided with a new assailant, the sound distinctly not bone. Shit. Throwing his body sideways to bring the long of the spear into the arm moving to swipe, Diego shouts to Klaus, “Any bright ideas?”

“Fresh out. Maybe stick with the heads thing.”

+

Hunched over and panting, Diego takes stock. The spear sits heavily in his hand, the knuckles around it bruised from a punch to metal. An arrow scratched up his side, tearing his shirt, and the broad shoulders of a cyclops rammed into his gut not five minutes ago, leaving his ribs tender, stinging under skin that will sport bruises by tomorrow. Bronze toned viscera clings to the side of his face where it leaked from the mouth of a monster as Diego removed his head.

But this isn’t over.

Nothing else seems to be coming from the earth around him which only leaves the god himself. Puffing up his chest with a large inhale, Diego rises to full height. Oh, there we go, someone landed a hit to his upper back as well cos, yeah, oh _boy,_ that stings. 

“Apollo,” he cries towards the manor. “I beat up your garden gnomes and fucked up your lawn, come out and face me yourself, coward!”

+

‘Coward’ echoes through the room. Five expects to be teleported elsewhere, removed from the scene, but Apollo just snarls and shoves Five into a chair. “Stay there. I’ll deal with this.”

Five shakes his head. Trust Diego to shoot from the hip and wound a god’s pride with the shot.

+

“I put a ring on his finger-”

“And he’s said ‘no’ since,” Diego fires back before Apollo can finish the thought, quick as lightning. “Which doesn’t fly where I’m from, buddy. But from what I hear, you god types don’t seem to worry so much about consent. So, you need to let him go, since he doesn’t wanna be here. And then we can all go about our business like I didn’t trash your landscaping this afternoon.”

Apollo seems to grow before him. He tells Diego, “I could kill you where you stand.”

Adjusting the spear in his palm, Diego retorts, “As could I, my guy.” Apollo’s brow raises. “What’s it gonna be – let him go, or I make you.”

A gleaming sword appears in Apollo’s, the light radiating from the god mirrored from it to Diego’s eyes. Neat party trick, Diego notes. He clashes the spear tip into the curve of Apollo’s blade before it can cut him down. “First blood,” Apollo hisses, so close to slicing Diego’s shirt open from the collar down. “I win, you leave and never come back.”

Diego slams the butt of the spear into Apollo’s chest, sending him stumbling backwards. A satisfied smirk on his face, he replies, “I win, I get to take Five home. Yeah, dude, I get the rules.”

It’s not a long fight. Diego may be weary, but the spear works with him, lengthening itself when Apollo seems just out of reach. Keeping the god far enough away to prevent Diego coming anywhere near his sword but still right at the edge of the spear’s glinting tip. A knock to Apollo’s jaw sends him stumbling backwards once more.

It pierces Apollo’s side with the worst sound Diego has ever heard, like the voices of five thousand men crying out all at once. Apollo drops to his knees.

Blood stains his teeth where Diego’s hit landed before, just the wrong side of red, and his eyes crinkle with bitter hurt. Diego twists the spear, making him hiss. “You’ve made your point, hero,” Apollo says, the smile on his mouth turning to a scowl as Diego removes the blade, “go and claim your prize.”

Diego hesitates a second, ready to correct Apollo’s statement, but now isn’t the time to worry about phrasing. He’s inflicted as much damage as he needs for now. He throws the spear -- _carefully_ \-- to Klaus, ordering, “Bro, eyes on him, yeah?” before making his way towards the door.

It’s thrown open a heartbeat later and a surprisingly angry Five rushes out to Diego. The dig he delivers to Diego’s ribs has him clutching an arm around his middle, as Five snaps, “What the fuck were you thinking? You could have been killed.”

“Nice to see you too,” Diego wheezes.

The next moment, Five wraps his arms around Diego’s shoulders. With his free arm, he pulls Five in as close as he can. “Thank you,” he whispers, just where Diego’s neck flows to shoulder.

Diego drops the arm around his middle and tightens his grip. His ribs can take it.

+

Back in the academy – Apollo aided them in their return, asking Five to let him do this one last thing for him and insisting he would personally see the spear was returned to its home while shooting Five a meaningful look that Diego wanted to query but forgot about as soon as they were home – Grace and Pogo fuss over Diego’s wounds while Klaus goes to raid the fridge.

“I’ve gotta say,” he says around a mouthful of sandwich. Diego looks at him, but Five never takes his eyes off Diego, squeezing his hand as Grace stitches shut the arrow wound on Diego’s flank. “Even though I did watch the latter half of the tale from the sidelines, there could be a lucrative book deal in this adventure for all of us. _Penguin_ are always reprinting Greek myths, I think we could be in the next edition.”

“Whatever you say, Klaus,” Diego offers before turning his attention back to Five who is carefully watching Grace’s needlework, making a face at each stitch.

Klaus nods and silently excuses himself from the room.

Washing Diego’s dried blood from her hands, Grace asks, “Will you boys be staying for dinner?”

Five looks up at Diego from his fretting with Diego’s tattered shirt. Diego bobs his head on his neck as he reads Five’s expression. “Yeah, Mom, we will be.”

“Then we’ll head home.”

+

Five drives them back to the gym, claiming Diego needs to rest, Diego’s ‘it’s barely a couple of blocks’ ignored. At the first red light they meet, Diego reaches over the gear stick to place his hand on Five’s thigh. It’s warm through the material of his slacks. Five doesn’t remove it the rest of the way.

In fact, Five barely relinquishes the hand at all, taking Diego’s arm once they are out of the car and wrapping it around his own shoulders. Diego lets him, ignoring the strain on his stitches. Five can have whatever he wants, once he lets Diego find the keys to let them in.

“Hey, I’m right here,” he smiles, gently coaxing Five back under the curve of his arm.

Five doesn’t come back to him, standing rigidly looking at him. _Oh._ Shit. Diego touched a nerve with that one. “C’mon,” he urges, changing tactic, “it’ll be warmer in here.” Five bends to fit under Diego’s arms, the sleeve of his shirt brushing Diego’s chest on his pass.

They both stare at the bed. It hasn’t been made since Five disappeared from it. Diego waits, watching as Five swallows.

“How long was I gone for?”

When his eyes cut to Diego, Diego quickly finds something to pretend to be doing. “Almost a week.” He hears Five remove his jacket, folding it and placing it on the chair by the cabinet as he always does. His arms slip around Diego’s waist, cautious where they press against. His cheek warms the slip of Diego’s shoulder blade. He asks, “How long was it for you?”

Five shakes his head, brushing his nose off Diego’s shirt. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Alright,” Diego gives, and he wraps his fingers around Five’s wrist. “Whatever you want.”

Five’s chest hitches off his back. Diego attempts to turn his head but Five never lets him get around, doesn’t let him ask what’s wrong, holding him in place instead. He places his mouth to Diego, heat flooding the patch it covers as he says, “I want-”

He’s not crying. Five’s not a crier – not like Klaus, or Vanya, or Diego himself – but this feels almost the same. Close enough to make Diego worry. He twists in Five’s arms, fighting Five’s grip. Five buries his face into Diego’s neck, refusing to be seen, so Diego does the only thing he can and strokes Five’s back, soothing with a light, “Alright, ok, I got you.”

Five shakes his head, presses his face closer to Diego’s skin, and, “Just.” He stalls, obviously unsure where to take the sentence next. His lips scuff the scruff on Diego’s jaw, barely there, _almost something._

“Whatever you need.” Diego lets Five work his way to his mouth. He kisses him before Diego expects, before he realises he’s there, at the right angle to, but it’s alright. Five’s here, Diego’s got him, whatever Five needs, he silently tells himself. Five catches his fingers in Diego’s hair and angles him precisely where he wants.

Five presses in closer, opens his mouth to let Diego kiss him deeper. It’s good, so fucking good, even with the ache in Diego’s ribs and the sting of his stitches, reminding him they’re there every time Five moves. It’s good but- “I want,” Five starts.

His mouth brushes off Diego’s, not a kiss but there, and he finishes, “I want you to fuck me.”

“You sure,” Diego checks. Because he can’t not. Five nods, pulling him away from the sink and towards the bed.

His fingers latch into Diego’s shirt more tightly than any time previously. Diego lets it pass without comment as they remove it together. Five stares at his chest; looking down, Diego lifts his chin, coaxing him to look away from the already-mottling purple-red-green bruises forming there. “We don’t,” Five begins but shakes his head, stopping his words going further. Diego smiles. He’s had worse. He strokes his thumb along Five’s cheek, reassuring, and his smile turns to a gasp as Five twists his head, licking over the pad of the digit. 

“C’mon,” he urges. Diego takes away his hand, leaving Five’s lip shiny with spit. He relishes the sight – he missed it without knowing it was something _to_ miss, the sight heating up something in his gut. He kisses Five again and lets Five, all grabby fingers and open legs, pull him into him on the bed.

Five makes short work of Diego’s pants, shucking his own off and kicking them from the bed the moment after. “How,” Diego begins to ask but Five cuts him off, squirming underneath him.

“Like this.”

Diego slows their kisses, despite the whine from Five, softly saying, “I’ve gotta get-”

“Fine,” is the answer, right before Five sinks his teeth into Diego’s collarbone. It stings, just the wrong side of pain, teeth too sharp. There’ll be a mark there in the morning, distinct, identifiable by Five’s dental records.

+

Five’s trembling, hands on either side of Diego, attempting to pull him in more. “Close- _closer,_ ” he practically begs. Diego drops from his hands to his elbows, caging Five in. There’s no more ‘closer’ but Five repeats it.

He spreads his legs further but, seriously, Diego can’t get them any closer.

Five tilts his head back, offering Diego his throat as he all out whimpers. Diego fucks in harder. The salt of Five’s sweat covers his tongue as he licks over Five’s adam’s apple. He moves to lift his head but Five won’t let him far, fingers twisted almost viciously -- _possessively_ \-- in Diego’s hair, nails scraping on his sweaty scalp.

“Diego,” he says, helplessly.

Adjusting his grip on Five’s thigh, he fucks Five quicker, the angle better to draw hitching moans out of Five’s mouth.

He has a pink spot on his jaw from Diego’s stubble, he’s flushed from the tip of his ears all the way to top of his chest, his eyes are so blue when he opens them to look at Diego and- _fuck,_ Diego just loves him. “I just, I want,” Five says, but stalls out. Diego slows, just to let Five articulate his thought, but Five heel digs into the back of Diego’s thigh, spurring his forward.

He’s barely pulling out now, the constant push of _in in in_ , dicking deep into Five.

Five tries again. “I just want you.”

Diego manages a smile. “You’ve got me,” he states, open and honest. Five blinks at him. A smile curls his mouth, even as a whine bubbles out of his throat. “You’ve, yeah. You’ve got me.”

The warmth of Five’s hand lifts away from Diego’s side. Diego tracks it, following as Five reaches between them. Diego keeps fucking him, pushing in hard and enjoying the way Five’s hand shakes in the air when he fucks him just right. Five reaches between them and draws his fingers around his hole, where he’s wet and open, sensitive around Diego’s dick.

Now, Diego shudders. “Fuck.”

“Feels like I’m yours,” he whispers, right into Diego’s mouth. Diego kisses him in response. 

It doesn’t take much more for Five after that. Fucked right and overwhelmed, his orgasm takes him as if by surprise when Diego touches his cock, thighs tightening almost uncomfortably around Diego’s waist. Diego stills to feel him quiver through it, pushing his moan into Diego’s mouth with his tongue.

His head flops back onto the pillows, hair a mess and everywhere and fuck. Diego is so fond.

“You are mine,” he says. Finally. Five smiles, heavy lidded and gorgeously rosy. 

Using his hips, he urges Diego to fuck him again. “Come in me,” he whines, shivery and soft. Nose to Five’s throat, Diego does as he’s told.

+

“It was more than a week,” Five says into the dark. Diego knew that earlier, from Five’s non-answer, but it wasn’t his point to say. “I’m not sure how long, but I was there more than a week.”

He moves on the sheets, pushing his back more against Diego’s chest. Diego takes the hint, offering Five his hand to hold. “I was on my own for- I don’t know. I don’t know how long but he left and I.” The sentence ends. There’s more Five wants to say, Diego feels it in the line of his back, in the way his shoulder blades lean against his chest, but he won’t push.

This is the closest Five will ever come to admitting weakness. “I thought I was about to be alone all over again.”

“Nah,” Diego replies, loose, easing the moment out of its seriousness. For Five’s sake. His breath ghosts along the nape of Five’s neck, causing him to shiver. Diego pushes a gentle chuckle out of his nose. “I was coming to get you.”

Five squeezes his fingers. Diego’s knuckles crack, earning him a laugh from Five. “I’ll always come get you.”

They lie there in silence as Five’s breathing begins to even out. Diego notes the way his shoulders relax next to him. “Did I tell you I met a witch?” Diego whispers. Five hums, tired now and nearly post-verbal. “On an island. She reminded me of you, kinda.”

“Tell me about it in the morning?” Some of the vowels are missing, smashing the consonants together from Five’s mouth in a way that Diego finds stupidly endearing.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “I’ll tell you in the morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> as “god fucking” is one of my favourite tropes i’m genuinely surprised i didn’t let actual five/apollo happen in this.


End file.
